Me, a pick up artist?

Then the moment of truth comes, will I initiate the exchange of numbers? She’s got no reason to initiate it. She’s settled in her life, her social group. So it’s up to me to make that move. And more often than not, I don’t. I just hope we’ll bump into each other again.

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Hello, masses, here’s my pregnant body

Actually, I didn’t start interrogating my body again until pregnancy began to make itself apparent. I felt frumpy. But I didn’t talk about it because I didn’t want to appear shallow or ungrateful for the baby.

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Feast, famine or funny food

In this flat, we have a bedtime routine that I’m not altogether proud of. If we stay up beyond 11, I’ll almost inevitably go into a funk that doesn’t allow me to go to bed without making a fuss. It goes like this.

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Driving’s for losers

Yesterday I proved that my husband is patient enough to put his life and, more impressively, car into my shaky hands simply to encourage me. He yelled, “Brakes!” a couple of times but there were no beads of sweat, whispered prayers or attempts at thinly veiled contempt.

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My cupboard is fully stocked…

with pinches of salt for the coming year. Mompetition hits it again. Sign up for my newsletter

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Mum-thing to do: confuse religion with ethnicity

Late nights courtesy London friends left me struggling to get to sleep at a reasonable hour last night. My iPhone was (shock, horror) battery dead so I decided to read a little book Laurence (ahem, Santa) put in my stocking this Christmas. It’s called, “things to do now that you’re a MUM” and is ultra-yummy. It really is a fun book for any new mum to have. That the author Elfrea Lockley is able to round up 600 “nice” things to do as a new mother is somewhat prodigious, I thought. Yes, I’m aware that new mothers are bombarded with…

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Baby, you’re on screen

Yesterday, I drank well over a pint of water, lugged my unhappy bladder into the filthiest taxi I’ve ever sat in and went to the hospital. Two signs on the England-flag-emblazoned glass separating the driver from me warned me that a £75 fine would be due should I soil the vehicle. Honestly, I’m not sure what difference my spit-up, or any other soiling materials for that matter, would have added to the mix. I’d decided to take a taxi because the thought of waddling across Bristol, ready to burst, oddly did not appeal. For our dating scan I’d drunk what…

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